


Al Dente

by WhatLisaLoves



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Food, Home, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 23:22:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10887039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatLisaLoves/pseuds/WhatLisaLoves
Summary: Al Dente/al ˈdɛnteɪ,-ti/adjective & adverbadjective: al dente; adverb: al dente(of food, typically pasta) cooked so as to be still firm when bitten.





	Al Dente

The linguine slides into the boiling water, the oil in it moves in wild swirls that contrast sharply to the melancholy music, a woman crooning huskily about long lost love. Next to the pasta pan is a low, wide copper saucepan, in which thinly sliced onions and bright red peppers simmer, giving the air a sweet smell.  
The diced chicken filet yet waiting to be added, bathing in a home-made marinade. The marinade gives off its own aroma; oregano, parsley, ground pepper and olive oil. As soon as the linguine is strained and resting, the chicken will be tossed in with the onions and peppers and it'll all come together.  
Paired with the crispy white wine that's chilling in the icebox it'll make a beautiful meal. 

He steps back and folds the kitchen towel to strain the pasta that's now properly cooked. After tossing the chicken in with the onions and peppers, giving it a quick stir, he shakes the drainer to get rid of excess water, the air around him warm and moist. The kitchen feels cosy, the set table waiting for its occupants. 

“It smells lovely, is it ready?” His flatmate has sneaked into the kitchen without a sound and he nearly drops the towel, started. It earns him a deep-throated chuckle. He turns and looks at the man behind him, his mouth twisting in an unconscious smile. He sees something soft and sweet in his eyes. And he knows that this a good decision, a meal, a slow evening, together, at home, after everything that has happened to them, between them and around them. “Open the bottle of white, will you?.” 

When they're both sitting down with a plateful of linguine, vegetables and chicken, he nudges the salad bowl towards his flatmate, in exchange for a glass of the sparkling wine. Unfolding their napkins they share another smile and pick up their forks. 

Afterwards, bellies filled, in a pleasant haze of wine, good food and better conversation, they wash the dishes, together. Huddled close in the warm, comfortable kitchen, soapy water splashing, a kitchen towel folding carefully around glasses, plates and cutlery. He dries his hands on another towel and slowly but deliberately curves his arm around the other's waist. He turns half into him, not shocked, but pleasantly surprised.  
Their height difference is more pronounced, standing close together.  
Eyes searching eyes, finding what they're looking for. An arm around his waist gently tugs him closer and he goes willingly. 

It has taken a while, they have definitely taken the long road, but now, now they've both come home.


End file.
